by RJ Blain
Five minutes later, Direct Hammel and his merry band of somberly dressed assistants arrived. Why did Direct Hammel need four men to stand around? Most viewings, even the big ones where the whole town showed up, only needed two attendants. The rest of the time, I could handle the work without any help at all.
While the viewings sometimes had upwards of the town’s full three hundred people, I couldn’t think of a single funeral with more than twenty attendees since I’d started working at the place. The old stayed, the young left, and with a world full of magic to discover, who wanted to stay in Sunset, Alabama? If my college fund hadn’t been bled dry on drugs and hookers, I would’ve been on the first bus out along with the other six seniors in my class.
“Any problems?” the director asked, sniffing the air.
I bet he smelled the lemon and wanted to know why I’d been cleaning. “No problems,” I replied. Any other day, Old Man McGregor rising and coming out of his coffin for a chat would’ve counted as a problem, but I was too worn and tired to care. Like with all things, problems were relative. If the restless dead hiding in his coffin decided to cause a problem, I’d back up and watch the fireworks. “I finished my other work for the morning, so I cleaned to make certain everything was ready for the viewing, sir.”
“Good job. Our clients will arrive soon. We’ll handle the rest from here. Mr. McGregor’s family is rather conservative, so if you could handle inventorying and cleaning the preparation and refrigeration rooms, that would be useful. Otherwise, go home.”
I didn’t need a diploma to read the writing on the wall. If I went home, I wouldn’t be invited back to work, which meant someone hadn’t done their job cleaning the basement.
The funeral home went through inspections once a month to keep its license, and we were due to have a government worker poking around the place. Plastering a smile on my face, I nodded. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me, sir.”
“Good. Call the main line if there are any problems.”
Once again, I read the writing on the wall: if I had any problems during the viewing, I would be in need of a new job.
I struggled to maintain a neutral, professional expression. To keep guests from wandering into the restricted parts of the funeral home, Director Hammel locked the stairwell door and turned off the lift. I’d spend the next six hours in the basement. After the surge of restless dead and corpse possessions, the funeral home boasted reinforced lower level walls and doors, fashioned of a mix of concrete and steel to keep the bodies contained should they decide to get up and take a walk.
Fortunately, excluding Old Man McGregor, we only had two bodies in storage, and John Doe had been in our freezer since before I’d been born. If he decided to get up, they’d hear my screams in the next state. While the rules kept changing, one thing stayed the same: the older the corpse, the stronger the undead it became. I hadn’t seen Mr. Doe, but I sometimes heard Director Hammel talk about him in hushed, fearful tones.
Nothing scared Director Hammel except our John Doe.
The other body we had didn’t worry anyone; the vampire wasn’t going anywhere until someone reattached his limbs and revived him with a lot of blood. I wasn’t sure why we kept the vampire on ice, but someone from the CDC came once a month, along with the funeral home inspector, to make sure he remained as alive as an undead got. I’d gotten to take a look at the vampire, as Director Hammel wanted to make certain I knew to avoid the sleepers in the freezer.
All in all, I didn’t care about either corpse. Unless I put my throat to the vampire’s mouth, he couldn’t hurt me. As for John Doe, I wasn’t sure what I thought about him.
While I wanted to curse over my foul luck, I kept smiling, grabbed my purse and coat, and descended into the basement. I made it all of two steps before the lock clicked behind me.
“Asshole,” I muttered, shaking my head and reaching for switches. I flipped three of the five, bathing the stairwell and landing below in a yellowed light. The stench of embalming fluid burned my nose, and I turned on the ventilation fans so I wouldn’t suffocate before the end of the viewing.
When I found out who had left the basement a reeking hell hole, there’d be a third body in the freezer. In prison, I could study and pretend I had a future, and I’d do so on the government’s dime until they kicked me out and made me finish my term doing community service. Curling my lip in a snarl, I stomped down the steps and aimed for the disposal bin meant for the latex gloves. I caught it with my foot and launched the damned thing through the open doorway.
It crashed onto the metal table bolted to the preparation room floor.
“What’s the fucking point of having a three-inch thick containment door if it’s open all the time? I’m surrounded by brain-dead idiots.”
“Yes, you are,” a husky, deep voice replied. “I was wondering who they’d sacrifice to me first. I knew the scarecrow would hide, but I thought he’d betray the whiner first. How disappointing.”
A flash of red in the corner of my eye warned me something came, but before I could do more than flinch, a muscular forearm slammed against my throat while a tall, black, and crimson clad body pinned me to the stairwell wall. A hand covered my mouth.
I sucked in a breath, wheezing from the pressure against my throat.
“I don’t like when people scream. Remain quiet, and you might live longer.”
Unless the vampire had reattached his arms and legs, added at least six inches, and had stolen a black and red outfit better suiting the Victorian era, John Doe had gotten tired of his eternal rest, gotten up, and explored the basement. Unless someone upstairs heard me, an impossibility through the locked door above, I was up a creek without a paddle or a boat.
Oh, well. Shit happened. As screaming or protesting, or even struggling, would do me no good, I settled for a nod.
Then again, if a prolonged life turned into a losing proposition, I’d scream myself hoarse to speed up the inevitable.
“Very good. What’s your name, little lady?” My captor eased the pressure on my throat and lowered his hand from my mouth.
Well, then. If he wanted to be cordial, I could work with that. “I’m Anwen.”
“Of which clan? You smell of the Isles.” He paused, as though lost in thought. “I don’t know what they call the Isles in this era. No matter. I’ve not had a clanswoman in many years. Clanswomen are always entertaining.”
“I don’t have a clan. I’m a Nash,” I admitted. “My father’s American, and my mother’s mother is a Brit. I’m a mutt, so I’m probably not interesting or entertaining. Sorry.”
“How curious. Right now, most begin begging for their lives. Why don’t you? I mean, I do enjoy skipping that rather tedious phase of our introduction. I’ve found my accommodations rather offensive, though that’s no fault of yours.”
I rolled my eyes at that. Seriously? What sort of weirdo asked questions like his? I suspected he redefined old, and the brief glimpses I’d caught of him implied he would be easy on the eyes. I had assumed he’d count as some sort of nasty undead predator if he got up, but he felt much warmer than any corpse I’d dealt with. “Do you want the pretty answer or the truth?”
John Doe shifted his hold on me, pulling me against him rather than keeping me trapped to the wall. Warm breath tickled my cheek. “Tell me both, but start with the truth.”
“Okay. Right now, you’d probably be doing me a favor, and if you decide to draw it out, I plan on screaming so you kill me faster.”
“And your pretty answer?”
“It turns out that is also my pretty answer.” While he no longer strangled me, he kept me pinned against him, which beat the wall but made me question my sanity. Were all men warm? Thanks to Sunset’s dwindled population and severe shortage of decent single guys, I hadn’t met any men I’d wanted to cuddle up with.
Apparently, bad boys appealed to me. I needed to help my mother swallow her own damned teeth for having influenced me. Bad boy appeal must have been the reason why my
mother had married my father, and that relationship consistently proved to be a train wreck destined for hell.
“How interesting.”
“What sort of undead are you? You’re rather warm. The other stiffs definitely aren’t warm.”
John Doe laughed long and loud. “My dear lady, whoever said I was dead? I assure you, I’m as alive as you. I’m no undead, although I’ve noticed you’re keeping one in your freezer. How uncouth.”
“He’s not my undead. I’m just the receptionist who is often relegated to serve as the maid. Heaven forbid the chauvinistic male pigs upstairs be helped by a mere girl. Look, if you’re not going to kill and eat me, can I get to work? If this sty isn’t spotless by the time the viewing is done, the director will probably fire me. At that point, you may as well kill me.”
“Are you a virgin, Miss Nash?”
What the hell? “Excuse me? What does my virginity have to do with anything? How about you? Are you a virgin? Your sex life has been on ice for at least fifty years, so you may as well be. I bet you’re shriveled from disuse. Typical man. You throw your weight around, act like you’re all high and mighty, and I bet when you think no one is looking, you waste all your money on hookers and blow since you’re too cheap to go all the way.”
Damn. I needed to either reward my mouth or gag myself. I couldn’t tell which.
“I think you’ll find me pleasantly experienced.” John Doe released me, taking a single step away from me. “By all means, do your work, Miss Maid. It would be rude of me to jeopardize your livelihood when you’re too entertaining to kill.”
I rubbed at my throat and glared at all six feet plus of male perfection. Whoever had picked his funerary attire had done him justice, and his dark hair and bronzed skin brought out the icy blue of his eyes. “Do you have a name, or should I just call you Mr. Arrogant Asshole?”
“I’ll tell you my name under one condition. Pray tell, what exactly do you mean by hookers and blow?”
I laughed myself hoarse. “Prostitutes,” I gasped. “Cheap prostitutes on the street for a public—”
“Public?!”
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I sank to the floor, unable to quell my giggles. “Maybe in your car. When you expired the first time, did cars even exist?”
“I am unfamiliar with cars, although thanks to the nature of my slumber, I have heard the term before. I assure you, Miss Nash, I only take my women willing, nor do I pay for one’s company. By the time I’m finished with you, I promise you’ll be begging for the honor of my company in your bed. After centuries of listening to men talk while preparing bodies, you count as a jewel among rubbish. Such fine entertainment only comes along every few hundred years or so, and I’ve been waiting far longer than that for a chance like this.”
A chance like what? I considered his situation, which involved him listening to the world around him for countless years. I would be grumpy and irritable—and possibly arrogant as hell—if I had suffered through that, too. Fortunately for me, I’d kept quiet while down in the preparation and refrigeration rooms, so he likely had no idea I’d existed until now.
What was he up to, though? Why would he be interested in me? Whatever. I dodged death for a while, and that would be good enough for me. “Is that a threat or a promise?” I asked, unable to fully suppress my curiosity.
“It’s both.”
Two
Please don’t scream.
Mr. Arrogant Asshole watched me work with a smug smile. I took my irritation out on my cleaning, hissing curses between clenched teeth. Someone had left the preparation room a mess, and one of the industrial-sized drums of formalin, the stabilized formaldehyde solution we used to preserve various bits of our deceased guests, had leaked. In time, the fumes might kill us both, but if I turned the ventilator fans to max power, closed the drum, and stayed away from the preparation room for a while, we’d be fine. But first, I needed to check why the preservative wasn’t where it belonged.
I opened it to discover a damned good reason it had sprung a leak.
Someone had decided to store a body inside.
I broke every rule in the funeral home, screamed like I meant it, and bolted for the stairwell.
A split-second later, Mr. Arrogant Asshole hooked his arm around my waist, jerked me to him, and clapped his hand over my mouth. “Please don’t scream. I find the sound so grating. What seems to be the problem, Miss Nash? Surely it’s not been the first time you’ve seen a body.” He leaned around me, wrinkling his nose as he considered the victim. With a shrug, he stepped away from the drum and dragged me with him. “Try this again, but with no screaming this time.”
He eased his hand off my mouth.
Okay. I could handle the situation like an adult. It wouldn’t take much to remember screaming really tripped the asshole’s trigger. “The bodies aren’t supposed to go in there. I didn’t even think one would fit. That’s a pretty toxic preservative, and the fumes can get dangerous. We keep it in a somewhat stable solution, but it can still kill you in a hurry if you’re not careful. The drums are supposed to be sealed, and we usually work with masks when dealing with the formaldehyde. The health inspectors get really picky about the safe handling of the bodies.”
“Very well. That’s a legitimate reason for your reaction. Scream as much as needed, but only this once. Or until the next time there’s a legitimate reason for such a reaction, I suppose.”
If I pushed hard enough, could I make two bodies fit inside the drum? “I’m done screaming, but thank you. I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities again, Mr. Arrogant Asshole.”
“My name is Eoghan Olin, Miss Nash.”
My brows shot up at his rather unusual name. The slight intonation distinguished it from the more American Owen, although if I hadn’t been paying attention, I might not have caught the slight difference in pronunciation in the middle. If I wanted to avoid tripping over my tongue while saying his name, I’d have to take care.
Whatever. I’d deal with his name properly despite my inherent dislike of the man. Well, somewhat dislike for him. I wouldn’t mind if he stuck around, thus allowing me to admire him as long as he learned to stay quiet so he wouldn’t annoy me.
Who knew? I liked tall men with dark hair and blue eyes. There weren’t a lot of them in Sunset, with the townsfolk mostly consisting of pale hair colors and the occasional red head, with my dark brunette another mark against me.
On second thought, I needed to get my head out of the gutter.
“Well, maybe if you had graced me with it sooner, I wouldn’t have needed to assign you a name. You only have yourself to blame, Mr. Arrogant Asshole.”
He smirked. “You are determined to burn brightly and hold tight to your pride, I see. Excellent. I enjoy when I deal with such a woman. I dislike tedium. I dislike a great many things, but tedium? How dreary. You may wish to adjust your current antagonistic position, as I’ve reason to believe that the miserable excuses for humans upstairs have no intention of allowing you to live. The misguided fools truly believe they can sacrifice you to me to appease my hunger. I think they mistake me for a vampire. Had I been an undead creature of the night, their ploy may have worked, but I am not. Still, I accept their offer of you as a sacrifice, although they are incorrect on the nature of the sacrifice I require.” The bastard’s smirk eased to a satisfied smile. “There are perks to being my sacrifice, of course. You’ll show me the nature of the world as it is now, explain the ways it has changed, and provide the knowledge I require to understand society and thrive in it. In exchange, I will provide you with certain protections, knowledge that may lead you to wealth, direct wealth depending on the situation with my current caretakers, and a way out of this place, which will become your tomb should you let it. In the eyes of those above, you have witnessed too much. You know too much. You’re a threat to them.”
Clenching my teeth, I pulled free of Eoghan’s hold, approached the container, and peeked inside. He hadn’t been dead long as
far as I could tell, although I wasn’t sure. “Did you know he was in here?”
“I knew something was amiss, but I didn’t know what. They discussed a sacrifice, likely you, and that the time of renewal was nigh. They were right on that score. The land’s lifeblood once again flows freely, so here I am. I do find my current attire perplexing, however.”
“It’s a suit. Sure, it’s a bit old fashioned, but it’s just a suit.”
“You presume these suits were worn the last time I freely walked the lands, Miss Nash. They didn’t. I suppose they may have been worn during some of my brief awakenings, but I have never seen this sort of attire before. Suits, you say? No matter. That was then, this is now. I’ve no interest in the year, either, mind you. It means nothing to me. What sort of men wear these suits? The impoverished?”
I shook my head. “The wealthy eccentric might like a suit like that.”
“That will do nicely. I will have to thank my caretaker, assuming it’s not this unfortunate fellow. Tell me. Do you know who my caretaker is in this era?”
His guess was as good as mine, but I was inclined to believe the unfortunate fellow in the drum was responsible for the newly awakened man. I pointed at the container of formaldehyde. “He’s as likely as anyone else. I’ve no idea. Honestly, I thought Director Hammel was in charge of you.”
Had I known our John Doe was more than just an odd stiff on ice, I might’ve taken him out of the freezer and thawed him myself. Not only did he appeal to the eyes, I liked his voice despite his tendency to annoy me.
“That ignoramus buffoon couldn’t take charge of a carriage let alone me. Really. There’s no need to be insulting. Do you know who that fellow is?”
Considering I couldn’t see his face, I’d have to drain the drum or pull him out to find out. Would the fumes kill me if I dumped the chemical onto the floor? Considering the fumes were already getting to me, I expected they would. Screwing the lid into place and letting someone in a hazmat suit deal with the body was the wisest option, so I held my breath and secured the lid. Despite being the stabilized solution, my eyes burned. Backing away, I went to the staircase to breathe in cleaner air. “Are you strong enough to move that?”